


Always You

by orphan_account



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, C-Virus Recovery, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Smut, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Infected Piers, M/M, Oral Sex, Piers Survives, Post Resident Evil 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While excavating the ruins of the underwater facility Piers is found alive, forcing Chris to confront what he thought had been destroyed along with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skin and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing is my heart and soul, and I have a lot of free time, which lead to this fic, which I'm actually pretty excited about.

Chris clenched his jaw as he leaned against the railing of the small yet sturdy BSAA ship. The salty sea air assaulted his senses and a light breeze tousled his dark hair. It would've been a beautiful day, if not for the circumstances.  
"Chris,"  
The captain turned slightly to see Leon standing beside him. He scolded himself for being so distracted that he didn't hear the blond approach.  
"The divers just went in," Leon continued.  
Chris turned back to face the gentle waves. "Why did you ask me to come, Kennedy?"  
Leon sighed deeply. "You need closure, Chris," he turned to face the water as well. "The kid didn't die in vain, he-"  
"He wasn't a kid." Chris interjected icily. "He was a better man than all of us. He saved me. He saved the whole goddamn planet."  
"I know," Leon said quietly after a few moments, and then remained silent.  
Chris was just about to turn and go back down to his bunk when he saw, almost out of his vision, a mass of bubbles rippling on the surface of the water.  
"That's odd, they shouldn't be resurfacing yet," Leon commented, spotting the bubbles as well. "Maybe it's just a fish?"  
Chris stayed silent, swallowing hard, not taking his eyes off the bubbles. He feared the worst: had the divers awakened a B.O.W.? Was the Haos monster still alive? He gripped onto the railing until his knuckles turned white.  
Suddenly, a small crackle of electricity erupted from the bubbles, happening so fast it seemed unreal.  
"Did you-"  
Chris began a mad dash down the ship, not hearing the rest of Leon's inquiry.  
He stopped at the closest point on board to the dwindling bubbles, leaning dangerously far off the side, eyes straining. It couldn't be...  
A body suddenly surfaced, frail and unmoving.  
"SOMEBODY GET IN THERE," Chris bellowed, preparing to dive in himself just before a panicked member of the crew jumped into the unforgiving ocean, heading for the body.  
"Chris," Leon panted, having caught up with the older man. "What's happening?"  
Chris didn't say a word until the member dragged the body close enough for him to get a good look.  
His breath hitched at the sight of the unmistakable color and pulsing of a B.O.W.'s flesh. He pretended that he didn't recognize the ragged and soaked uniform on the body.  
I can't get my hopes up, Chris told himself sternly.  
Once the soldier was close enough, Chris and Leon dragged the body up onto the deck. By the time it was fully on board, a mass of soldiers had gathered around them, clutching their weapons and eyeing one another nervously.  
The eldest Redfield dropped down onto his knees, gingerly removing algae from the body's face.  
"That uniform's BSAA," one of the soldiers murmured. "But the patch is gone..."  
Chris inhaled deeply as he wiped the remaining residue off of the body's face. The entire right half was ragged and pulsating, but he instantly recognized what was left of that broad nose and pouty lips.  
"It's him..." Chris said, baritone voice devoid of any emotion.  
Piers's mutated arm suddenly began to violently convulse, jolts of electricity traveling through it.  
"That doesn't make sense, the virus needs a living host," the soldier that had retrieved his body observed.  
Piers's eyes flashed open, and he made a guttural noise in his throat, gasping through his ragged lips.  
"Captain," he said, voice hoarse, eyes still directed at no one. "I'm still me,"  
"Piers," Chris barked, grabbing hold of the younger man's good shoulder.  
"Chris..." Leon warned.  
"Piers? Come on, Nivans," Chris continued, disregarding Leon's warning.  
"I'm still me," Piers repeated, voice fading. "I'm still me."


	2. Rusty Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers wakes up in the hospital, Jake is smug as ever, and Chris is a terrible liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My aesthetic is awkward!Chris.

Piers gasped quietly when he awoke. His vision in his left eye was blurry at best, while he could see nothing out of the other. He instinctively tried to rub at his eyelid, discovering that his skin was inflamed and a mass of scar tissue.  
"What..." he murmured, voice weak.  
He turned blindly to the right when he heard the distinct sound of a door opening.  
"Who's there?" he croaked out.  
"It's me," a deep, familiar voice replied.  
He frowned. He knew that voice from somewhere...  
"...Captain?"  
"Yes," Chris replied, gently tapping the younger man's good arm. "I'm over here Piers,"  
Piers turned, squinting hard. He could make out those familiar dark eyes, but anything else was indistinguishable.  
"Captain? What happened?" he asked, his voice raising in panic. "Where's Ada?"  
"Try not to talk," Chris replied, dodging the brunette's questions. "You'll damage your throat. Here," he raised a styrofoam cup filled with ice chips to his lips. "Take a few."  
Piers initially tried to take the cup from his superior, but found himself unable to lift his arms. (One of them seemed oddly heavy) So he took a few chips into his mouth, closing his eyes as he was getting a headache from all the strain. He leaned into the pillow behind his head as he listened to Chris settle into a nearby chair.  
"Gotta say, that kid's blood is working miracles," Chris began, unsure if he was speaking to Piers or himself. "Your face is already clearing up."  
"I must look like a monster," Piers whispered. "Like Freddy Krueger," he joked weakly.  
"Oh shut it," Chris scolded. "The doctor said your arm should be fully recovered in about a month,"  
"My...My arm?"  
"...Yeah." Chris sighed. "Piers, what do you remember, exactly?"  
"It's really...fuzzy," Piers replied. "I remember something big grabbing you...Ada..." he trailed off for a moment. "I think...I think I disobeyed one of your orders..." he worried his bottom lip.  
"Yeah, you did," Chris answered after a long pause. "You...You injected yourself with the virus to save me. And then you pushed me into an escape pod, and wouldn't open the door when I ordered you to..." the older man trailed off, his chest aching at the memory of leaving him behind.  
Piers's better eye began to burn with the threat of tears. He turned away from his superior, refusing to show weakness yet again.  
"You did good, Piers," Chris reassured him, nearly grabbing the younger man's arm, but stopping himself. "You saved everyone." his large hand hovered over Piers's lean arm for moment, before he placed it down nearby on the mattress, awkwardly clearing his throat. "How's your vision?" he prompted, blatantly changing the subject.  
"I can't see out of one, and the other one's all blurry," Piers answered, voice feeble. "I'm tired, Captain."  
"Alright," Chris said, standing. "I'll put the call button in your hand. If you need m-" he stopped himself. "If you need something, just press it." Chris nearly sprinted toward the door to escape his embarrassment.  
"Captain?" Piers called, voice barely audible.  
"I think you can call me Chris now,"  
A ghost of a smile formed on Piers's healing lips. "Let's talk more after I wake up, Chris. I..." his words then became unintelligible as he drifted off.  
He'd later deny it, but Chris couldn't help but smile as he left the room.

· · ·

Chris's smile quickly faded as he left the room, spotting Jake Muller leaning against a nearby desk, where a disgruntled nurse was trying not to stare.  
"How's the puppy?" Jake asked, smirking.  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Chris demanded. "I really don't have the patience for you right now."  
"Hey, let's not forget that I'm the only reason your BSAA buddies didn't take him out on the spot," he tapped his wrist smugly.  
Chris inhaled slowly, regaining his composure. "You didn't answer my question,"  
Jake sighed disinterestedly. "They need more of my blood. Evidently the strain Nivans has is extra-potent,"  
"It's why he was able to survive so long underwater," the nurse interjected. She shrank back as the two hardened men glared at her for interrupting as well as eavesdropping. "I'll go, um, make sure he's comfortable," she choked out, shuffling toward Piers's room.  
Jake suddenly became quiet, furrowing his brow, emphasizing his scar, looking the older man up and down. He smirked yet again. "I fucking knew it,"  
"What?" Chris asked, shifting under the mercenary's gaze.  
"You and the pup..." he let the sentence hang.  
Chris stepped forward and grabbed the younger man's shirt collar with the speed one would expect from such an experienced soldier.  
"I do not screw my men," he began, voice nothing more than a growl. A few people began to stare. "I had a mission. I finished it." he let go of Jake's collar, and headed toward the elevator.  
Once inside the elevator he pressed his forehead against the cold wall, rubbing his temple.  
"That could've gone better," he mumbled to himself. He hadn't lied to Jake; he'd never been involved with his men, no matter how many times he caught himself staring, or thought of those full lips on a particularly lonely evening.  
By the time he reached the first floor, Chris had developed a splitting headache.  
Oh, what a mess he'd gotten himself into.


	3. Under Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jello, nighttime walks and a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist using this plot device.

Chris knew that Piers would have to be heavily medicated, but he didn't expect him to be so medicated that he would be giggling hysterically when Chris returned to his room.  
"You walk so weird," Piers said. "Like you're Darth Vader," he then began loudly humming the Star Wars theme.  
"Someone's high," Chris commented. He couldn't help but smile. Almost all of Piers's face had cleared, it had receded down to his jawline, and he obviously was able to see much better.  
"Captain," he suddenly clasped his good hand over his mouth, still cackling. "I mean, Chris...Wow, I can call you Chris. That's sooo weird," he drawled.  
Chris sat down again, not wanting to miss a moment of this giggly Piers.   
"I love Jello," Piers began, digging into a cup of cherry Jello with a plastic spoon. "Best part of hospitals...You want some?" he asked through a mouthful.  
"I'm good," Chris politely declined, dodging the spoon as Piers tried to feed him some. "How are you feeling?"  
"Good," he answered, slowly licking the remainder of the Jello off his spoon, keeping steady eye contact with his now flustered captain. "Probably will still be blind in the one eye though,"  
"Then we'll get you an eyepatch," Chris replied, smiling slightly. Did Piers have any idea of what he was doing to that spoon? Was he not as inebriated as he let on?  
Had he started sexualizing spoons?  
Piers put the cup and spoon back, then looked back at Chris. The older man couldn't help but admire how bright his eyes, well, eye, was.  
"Captain?"  
"Chris," he corrected.  
"Chriiiiiisss," he mocked, dropping his voice down a few octaves.  
The older man rolled his eyes, and was about to retort when Piers reached out of his bed and placed his hand on Chris's knee.  
"Piers..." Chris said cautiously.  
"Tonight can you take a walk with me?" "What?"  
Piers retracted his hand and smiled sadly. "I don't wanna scare anybody with my arm-"  
"Piers," Chris interrupted.  
"I know how I look." he glanced over at his mutated arm. It was much smaller, but still occasionally pulsed and the flesh was still jagged and inflamed. "I just want to stretch my legs, but I'm afraid I might trip...If you don't want to the nurse said she would,"  
Chris grinned. "What time?"

· · ·

At around 10:30 that evening, when the floor had settled down, two nurses helped Piers get out of his bed. Chris noticed that one visibly flinched when she touched his infected skin, and he prayed to whatever deity was listening that Piers hadn't noticed as well.   
No matter how much the virus had taken, Piers was still so stunningly beautiful, and Chris wanted so badly to be able to tell him that; to be able to touch him without feeling guilty afterwards.  
Piers limped over to Chris, looking up and giving him a reassuring smile.  
"Ready?" Chris asked.  
"Ready,"   
They walked in comfortable silence past the desk Chris and Jake had spoken at hours before and down a long hallway. Halfway through the corridor, Piers placed his hand on Chris's upper arm for stability. Chris glanced down, but said nothing when the brunette left his hand there.  
"Captain," Piers said softly after a few minutes.  
"Chris," he corrected.  
"You stayed in the BSAA," he continued. "...Why?"  
"You," Chris replied without hesitation. He felt Piers's grip tighten. "It was difficult. I missed my right-hand man," he glanced down at Piers, who was staring intently at the floor.  
"I'm...It's gonna be weird after you leave," Piers mumbled.  
"I'm right here, Piers,"  
"Don't you have anybody missing you at home?" they turned, heading back toward Piers's room.  
"I'll have to go home to sleep, but I'll be back tomorrow morning," Chris said, trying to sound reassuring, but his reluctance to go back to an empty house, empty bed, crept into his words.  
"Yeah..." Piers trailed off. They finished the walk back in silence.   
The same nurse that had flinched earlier quickly gave Piers his medication and left abruptly, not attempting to hide her discomfort.  
By the time Chris managed to get Piers back into his bed, he was deliriously giggling yet again.  
"You have a good bedside manner," Piers giggled as Chris pulled his blanket up to his chest. "Woah..." he whispered.  
"Yes?" the older man asked.  
Piers's giggling increased as he covered his mouth with his hand. "Captain Redfield is getting me into bed," he whispered.  
Chris froze. He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it when he found himself to be speechless. Everything always got...interesting when Piers had been medicated.  
Piers stared intently at his superior for a moment before placing his hand on the base of his neck, pulling him closer.  
Chris was filled with a panic that a war-hardened man shouldn't feel. "Piers, what are you-"   
They were kissing. Piers was as warm and welcoming as a hot beverage on a cold day. Their lips were uncomfortably chapped and Chris smelled vaguely of coffee and cigarettes, but it was perfect.  
Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fic, "Rookie", has reached 100 hits, so thank you for continuing to read the odd things I write, (usually at 1am).


	4. Blink Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers is released to very loving arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically just porn, backward and forward to make up for my general procrastination of everything today.

After their lips finally separated, Piers began eagerly tugging at Chris's shirt to pull him closer as he tried to pull away.  
"Piers," he warned.  
"Captain," the marksman whined. Chris grasped the younger man's wrist.  
"Piers, not now." Piers furrowed his brow and fidgeted in his bed in defiance. "We're in a hospital, and you're heavily medicated."  
After a few minutes of coaxing, Chris managed to get Piers to calm down and try to sleep, but kept their fingers laced together until the brunette finally drifted into unconsciousness. He kissed his forehead before he left the room, and didn't notice how Piers softly smiled at his touch.

· · ·

The following morning Chris stopped at a nearby drug store before going to the hospital. At the door an energetic woman handed him a flyer advertising a local animal shelter, which he halfheartedly smiled at and placed in his back pocket.  
He walked down each aisle in a daze, unsure of his motives for stopping in the store. A gift. He should buy Piers something.  
"He did save my life, after all," he mumbled to himself. He settled on a camouflage travel mug with a sheet of paper inside the plastic cover, allowing the user to customize it to some degree. After getting back in his car, he retrieved a black sharpie that was probably older than the vehicle itself from the glove compartment and wrote "from Chris" on the bottom of the paper, dotting the I with a heart.  
"Great, I'm a thirteen year old girl," he said, examining his work before tossing the mug into the backseat, deciding to just bring Piers some greasy fast food instead.

· · ·

The weeks went by, and Chris could no longer visit Piers on a daily basis, but was at the hospital enough to know each nurse's first names, and occasionally gave them advice on their reluctant boyfriends.  
Piers's arm had regained its normal shape, but the scar tissue remained. Chris remained true to his word and bought him an eyepatch, which he always avoided wearing.  
Chris was jittery as he stood in the elevator. It was just like any other afternoon in a hospital: busy, but this one was special: Piers was being released.  
Granted, he would still have to be on countless medications with unpronouncable names, have regular appointments to keep the virus from spreading again, but he was leaving. Leaving with Chris.  
A few weeks prior, on one of the bad days where he would get a migraine that would make the room spin, he asked his superior if he could stay with him if he ever was released. Chris couldn't accept fast enough, and eagerly paid attention whenever a doctor instructed him how Piers's dosages worked, what to do on the bad days, etc.  
He practically dashed from the elevator to Piers's room, heart pounding in his chest. This was what he'd been preparing himself for, aggressively cleaning his apartment for.  
When he arrived in the familiar room, Piers greeted him with an equal amount of enthusiasm by practically tackling him when he entered, wrapping his arms around the older man's broad shoulders and laughing happily into his chest.  
"Um, hi," Chris choked out, blushing to a degree that no full grown man should.  
"Let's go," Piers said, grabbing his captain's arm and tugging him along.  
"Isn't there paperwork? Sign out sheets? Something?" Chris said dumbly as Piers pulled him toward the elevator.  
"Already did it," Piers dismissed. "Look," he said, turning around, holding up his previously mutated arm and wriggling his fingers, (the last time Chris had visited he still couldn't move his hand), before attacking the buttons on the elevator, nearly jumping up and down.  
"Don't overdo it," Chris warned. Piers pursed his lips as he stopped moving around. "...Hey, lemme see your arm again," he added. Piers extended his healed arm, and Chris gently took his hand, and squeezed before letting go.  
They hadn't spoken of the kiss since the night of, but throughout the month they had shared similar innocent gestures that helped the marksman get through the silent evenings in his hospital bed.  
They walked quietly to Chris's vehicle, Piers occasionally bumping against his superior's shoulder.  
Once they'd settled into the car, Chris nearly had the key in the ignition when Piers leaned out of his seat, somewhat gruffly pulling Chris closer, pressing their foreheads together.  
Chris's arm was frozen midway to the ignition, his dark eyes widened to an immeasurable size.  
"I'm not heavily medicated, we're not in a hospital," Piers began, staring his captain down with conviction. "I want you to kiss me," his brow furrowed in concentration. "Please,"  
Chris eyed him for a moment before dropping his keys and grabbing ahold of the marksman's cropped hair, and kissing him with all the desire and frustration that had formed within him through all of those missions, and the months spent simply waiting. He traced those full lips with his tongue before entering the younger man's inviting mouth, unable to hear anything but his blood rushing.  
Piers had expected Chris to push him away and politely decline. But here he was, his arm almost completely healed, his captain's tongue down his throat. But it still wasn't enough for Piers, he wanted more. He wanted Chris. He slid his right hand down the older man's torso, revelling in the feeling of his muscles through his shirt before stopping to palm his cock through his jeans.  
"Not here," Chris murmured, no matter how much his growing arousal protested. Piers was worth so much more than a desperate fuck in a parking lot.  
"Captain," he whimpered, eye nearly black with arousal. He pressed his face into the crook of Chris's neck. "I'm tired of waiting,"  
"I know," he replied, releasing Piers's hair to retrieve his keys from the floor. "Just a little longer, Piers." he kissed the top of his head as he started the car. "I'll take care of you,"  
Piers sighed slowly, reluctantly pulling away and leaning back against his seat, fidgeting every so often as they pulled out of the lot. But he remained stubborn, and leaned back toward Chris, determined to test his control, leaning into his lap. He looked up to see the captain clench his jaw, but keeping his eyes on the road.  
The marksman held himself up with his left hand, working on Chris's fly with his right. He glanced back up at his superior once more as he eased his manhood from his briefs, giving it a few steady strokes before slowly licking the underside.  
"Piers," Chris groaned, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.  
Piers smiled smugly to himself before wrapping his lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently as if it was a lollipop. He tried to convey confidence and experience, even though he'd pictured himself in this position multiple times before, he'd never actually done it. He vaguely remembered what he liked that one awkward night in high school when he and his best friend had too much to drink.  
After a few moments of fumbling, Piers developed a technique, noticing how Chris would let out a desperate groan each time he gagged.  
Once he pulled into the parking lot of his building, Piers began to vigorously suck, cupping his balls with his free hand.  
"Piers, I'm going to-" the marksman looked up, driving his superior over the edge, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel and panting. Piers's eyes watered as he choked on his superior's load. He closed his eyes and managed to swallow almost all of it, only a small portion leaking out, coating his bottom lip.  
"Piers..." he trailed off, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the brunette's lip. Piers slowly licked the remaining come off his thumb before sitting back up, gazing at him through thick lashes.  
"Yes, Captain?" And that time, Chris didn't correct him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to Lynn on ig for giving me the mug idea. 
> 
> My instagram: @sedetio


	5. Always Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris Redfield is a big gay bear and nobody can tell me otherwise.

Chris was awakened by the familiar chime of his cellphone, groaning loudly as he sat up.  
"Ignore it," Piers suggested, face buried into a pillow.  
"You know I can't do that," Chris replied, stumbling out of bed in an exhausted stupor.  
"Whatever," Piers drawled, tugging the blanket over his head, determined to sleep late.  
"Yeah?" Chris grunted in greeting, leaning against the kitchen counter as he spoke.  
"Chris,"  
"Leon?" he asked dumbly.  
"I just wanted to offer my condolences," Leon replied.  
"Condolences? Leon what are you talking about-"  
"He didn't tell you?" he paused, taking Chris's silence as a confirmation. "He's terminal."  
"Who are you talking about?" Chris asked, but he knew. The past month had been too good to be true; Piers wasn't being so forward with him because of affection, it was because he was dying. "But Muller," Chris growled into the phone.  
"You know what this thing does, Chris. More than anybody. The virus kept him alive and strong, but without it his body is weak. He spent an entire month underwater." he was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry,"  
Chris spotted Piers entering the room. "I gotta go," he said curtly, nearly slamming the phone back onto the counter.  
He turned to see Piers standing in the doorway, rubbing the sleep out of his bright eye with one hand and holding a pair of Chris's sweatpants up around his waist with the other. It would've been a beautiful moment, but Chris couldn't help but stare at the rough flesh of his previously mutated arm. He'd once been overjoyed to see Piers healing, but now it was like watching a clock count down.  
"All of your clothes are so huge," he said sleepily. "I tried on a shirt and it was like a dress," he stopped, lowering his shoulders in shame as Chris stared. "Please stop," he mumbled.  
Chris snapped back into reality, loudly clearing his throat. "I'll make something. Sit down,"  
Piers blushed. "I can't," he said quietly.  
"What?" he raised his eyebrows in realization. "Oh." he coughed awkwardly. "Sorry,"  
Piers shuffled forward, the bottom of the borrowed sweatpants dragging against the floor. He placed his right hand on Chris's chest, still holding the sweatpants up with his left. He moved his hand up along his torso, stopping at his back to feel the irritated skin through the fabric of his shirt.  
"Sorry about those," he murmured, not sounding regretful in the slightest.  
Chris winced at Piers's touch. Despite being in peak physical condition, he was still older, still exhausted from the previous night, still covered in scratches. But Piers was younger, bossy. Trying to enjoy as much as he could before he died.  
But Piers still thought Chris was blissfully ignorant. It'd be easier for him that way; to leave the burden only on himself.

· · ·

After downing two cups of black coffee and successfully shoving the thought of Piers's mortality into the back of his mind, he pressed the marksman against the counter, easing his calloused hand down the front of the oversized sweatpants to palm his soft dick.  
"Captain," he gasped, grabbing ahold of the older man's shoulders, thrusting upward into his hand.  
"Chris," he corrected.

· · ·

They ended up back in the bed, and once Chris left to use the bathroom, Piers pulled his pillow to his chest, trying to drown himself in Chris's familiar scent of bad coffee and nicotine. He choked back a sob. He wanted things to always be like this; no longer waking up alone, being able to touch, kiss, love Chris whenever he wanted.  
He needed to tell him. He needed to tell Chris that he wasn't going to survive the aftermath of the C Virus.  
Piers sat up, gently rubbing at his blind eye as Chris reentered.  
"Come here," he murmured, pulling him down onto the mattress, pressing his forehead against the older man's upper arm, his usual scent masked by the smell of sex and sweat.  
"Chris, I..." he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "I'm not going to make it. Without the virus my body is breaking down. They said my vision should be the first to go." he swallowed another sob as he felt his superior tense underneath him. "I'm sorry,"  
"And after your vision?" Chris asked, voice toneless.  
"Everything will be weaker, my hands will shake, my hair will fall out. I'll...I'll need a wheelchair."  
Chris then engulfed his lean body in his arms, saying nothing and looking at the floor like it had insulted his ancestors.  
Piers pressed his face into his captain's bare chest, no longer able to keep his tears at bay.  
The two men stayed in that position for an indeterminate amount of time, letting Piers cry enough for both of them. He refused to cry in front of him. He needed to stay strong for Piers, let him enjoy the short time he had left, even if it meant shedding a few tears along the way.  
Once Piers had no more tears to shed, they laid back down, despite the steady sunlight streaming in through the window. The marksman fell asleep to the steady rhythm of the older man's heartbeat, exhausted from the simple exhertion from his sobs.  
Chris wanted to wake him, he really did. Their time together being so limited he didn't want to miss a second of it. But he let Piers sleep. He would be there as he slept, and after he awoke. And he would still be there even after Piers would no longer wake up.  
He'd be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to max for reading this despite not being in the fandom. Maybe one day I can make her play Chris's campaign with me.
> 
> My instagram: @sedetio


	6. Calling for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay of this chapter, over the past few days I've encountered various existential crisises. But this chapter features a nice flashback and some old-fashioned porn to make up for it. I also apologize in advance for the whole Finn thing, I'm a lazy bastard when it comes to names.

The following morning, during a desperate attempt to find clothing that would fit Piers adequately, Chris found found the crumpled, month-old flyer from the local animal shelter. He smiled softly, recalling during one of their first missions together, Piers mentioning a beloved dog from his childhood. 

· · ·

Chris managed to find his smallest pair of jeans buried in the back of his closet, which still only managed to stay up on Piers's waist with a belt as tight as it would go. Every coat dwarfed him, so they settled on an old flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  
"This is like playing dress-up when I was a kid," Piers commented, fumbling with the buttons on the flannel.  
"You dressed up?" Chris asked, picturing a short, wide-eyed Piers running around in a supermarket princess dress.  
"One day I found my dad's old uniform, and threw a fit when my mom managed to peel it off of me," he smiled fondly at the memory. "But he never moved it, so I always managed to get ahold of it again." he stared intently at his reflection in the mirror, grimacing at his one milky, unseeing eye.  
"Come on," Chris said, giving the younger man's shoulders a squeeze.  
"Where are we going?"  
"It's a surprise."

· · ·

Once in the shelter, Chris had his eyes on an older mutt asleep in the corner of his kennel, but couldn't manage to tear Piers away from a cage filled with kittens.  
"There's some puppies over there," Chris began, having no interest in a cat after growing up with a practically evil one of Claire's. But once a chubby orange kitten with a scar where its right eye used to be extended his small paw out of the cage to swat gently at Piers's fingers, he knew his protests were futile.  
"You live in an apartment," Piers began. "A dog just isn't practical."  
Chris sighed, defeated, and made his way to the nearest employee to pay for the kitten, who only slightly paused at the sight of Piers before endlessly thanking them, and introducing the feline as Finn.  
"Isn't that funny," Piers said, making no attempt to hide his enthusiasm as the employee handed him the cat.  
"He still needs his shots, and I must urge you to get him fixed, but other than that he's a very healthy and now happy little cat."  
Chris was still reluctant as they exited, Piers rushing into his car to make sure Finn didn't get too cold.  
"How could you resist that cute face?" Piers cooed as the cat cautiously crawled onto Chris's thigh before curling up and beginning to purr.  
"Gonna have to stop and buy some food," Chris grunted, but Piers didn't miss his reluctant smile. He leaned his head against his superior's shoulder, wincing at the sharp pain in his chest that he blamed on the cold.

· · ·

Piers always had an incredibly short fuse when it came to Jake, but when the smallest glint of sympathy showed in his dark eyes when he looked at him, his anger ceased.  
"Did you tell him yet?"  
Piers looked away, scratching absentmindedly at his IV. "No,"  
"Jesus Christ, you're leaving in a week." he lowered his voice. "You could always just stay here until it happens,"  
"No," Piers replied firmly. "There's too much I need to do," he flushed when Jake quirked an eyebrow. "Just gotta tie up loose ends, I should last long enough to be able to do that."  
"I could tell him, if you're afraid to. Outside, to make sure he doesn't punch a doctor or something,"  
"I'm sure he wouldn't mind punching you instead," he smiled sadly. "It's gotta be me,"  
"Whatever," Jake dismissed, throwing his hands up in defeat as he headed toward the door.  
"Thank you,"  
"Yeah," Jake answered, shrugging.

· · ·

After the excitement of Finn, Piers dozed off on the couch with the kitten resting on his chest. It was a sweet moment, but Chris quickly removed the cat, fearing that the weight would restrict Piers's already heavy breathing. He leaned over the back of the worn sofa, lightly running his fingers through the marksman's cropped hair.  
One day. He'd gotten one guiltless, blissful day with Piers. Now each touch was cautious, the simplest task was the equivalent of running a marathon.  
Piers awoke with a quiet grunt, smiling sleepily up at Chris, despite how blurry he already seemed.  
He leaned up to meet what he assumed was Chris's lips, encountering little resistance. Chris made his way over the back of the sofa, stopping only when Piers began to work at his belt.  
"You need to rest,"  
"Not now," the marksman breathed, kissing the shell of his ear.  
"Piers," Chris warned, his voice faltering at the contact.  
"I can barely see you," he mumbled. "I need something to remember."  
Chris growled in reply, leaving kisses along his neck softly with a tenderness he'd never shown before. He was fully aware that this would be his last time being able to touch Piers this way, and intended to draw this out as long as physically possible.  
Piers, however, had a different plan as he clawed desperately clawed at his superior's clothing. Chris quickly stopped him, holding his hands above his head.  
"So eager," he teased, kissing at his collarbone with an expert tongue.  
Piers groaned, but remained stubborn, struggling against Chris's grip before sending them tumbling to the floor, leaving his superior underneath him. He leaned over the older man, rubbing his knee against his growing erection, panting desperately against his ear.  
"Stop messing around," he said, fueled by urgency and arousal. "And fuck me,"  
The logical part of Chris, the part that made him such a successful soldier, told him that he should've continued on slowly, at least using some sort of lubricant besides spit before penetrating a now loud and shameless Piers, but this logical part was quickly silenced by said loud and shameless Piers who was now riding him like his life depended on it.  
He gripped the seat of the couch for leverage as Chris dug his thumbs into his hipbones. His leaking cock ached for attention as he moaned desperately for his superior.  
"Chris, please,"  
Chris began to work at the marksman's dick, earning a wanton moan. Piers's movements became erratic before he filled himself to the hilt, nearly screaming as he came.  
Chris milked him through his orgasm, thrusting a few more times into his convulsing body before filling him with his load.  
Piers leaned down against his superior's chest, covered in sweat and panting.  
"I love you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.  
Chris was speechless for a moment before grasping onto the younger man's cropped hair tightly. "I love you too,"

· · ·

After two days of stumbling and fading vision, Piers woke up completely blind.  
He sat up in a panic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to improve his sight, but the world remained completely black.  
"Chris!" he yelled fearfully. Chris dashed into the room.  
"Piers? Piers, baby what's wrong?"  
The pet name lessened his fear as he ran a shaking hand through his hair.  
"I can't see," his breath hitched. "I can't see anything, captain. It's all black,"  
After spending so much time as a sniper, relying so heavily on his sight, his other senses felt so insignificant. There was a bag over his head that could no longer be removed.  
"It's alright," Chris said, holding his head firmly in place. "You're gonna be okay,"  
Piers flinched at the lie. "No I'm not," his hands were already beginning to tremble.  
There was a gentle meow as Finn hopped into Piers's lap, gently headbutting him and purring loudly.  
"See," Chris said, forcing a smile out of habit. "Even the cat knows it's all okay,"  
Piers shrugged heavily, lowering his head in shame.  
"Come on, I'll help you brush your teeth," Chris gently guided his lover into the bathroom, doing everything for him but the actual brushing.  
"I wouldn't be mad if you put me back in the hospital," Piers murmured. "You didn't sign up for this,"  
"Piers," Chris sighed, wondering if the younger man would be upset if he started combing his hair. "Shut up,"  
Piers pursed his lips, remaining silent as Chris lead him to the living room, purposely letting him walk into the coffee table.  
"Now you'll remember where it's at,"  
"Whatever," Piers retorted.  
"Yeah, yeah. Just stand there for a moment,"  
Piers heard him turning on the dvd player. "Captain, I just want to go back to bed, I doubt sitcoms are as funny when I can't see anything,"  
"Then it's good that we're not going to be watching a sitcom," Chris answered, placing a CD into the DVD player.  
Piers furrowed his brow in concentration as a song began to play.  
"I know this..." he trailed off as Chris grasped his waist and pulled him closer, intertwining his left hand with Piers's right. "I don't know how to dance,"  
"I do," Chris replied quietly before beginning to sing along to the music off-key, leading the younger man across the room in a makeshift slow dance.  
"This song is so old," Piers said, still trying to remain bitter despite how he'd already rested his head against Chris's shoulder.  
"I'm so old," Chris chuckled. "...don't want to fall asleep," he continued singing along softly. "'Cause I'd miss you,baby, and I don't want to miss a thing,"  
Piers's other senses no longer felt inadequate. He was hyperaware of Chris's baritone voice in his ear, the music, the cold floor underneath his feet. In that moment, he didn't miss his healthy body, not even his sight. He didn't need to see Chris to know where to step, to know that this war-hardened, frustratingly stubborn man loved him.  
Sight was overrated, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Chris played is "I Don't Want to Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith, and if it hadn't come on my pandora at the last minute, that portion of the chapter wouldn't have ever existed.  
> We're nearing the end of this series! Thank you for continuing to trek through my plot holes and generally amateur plot devices. (and my awkward notes)
> 
> my instagram: @sedetio


	7. The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short, super feels.

They danced long after the music was gone, only stopping when Piers could no longer stand up.   
The weeks progressed in a similar manner, Chris always managing to make a short moment of bliss as Piers deteriorated right before his eyes. He could no longer hold down a meal, and even Finn seemed cautious around him.   
Others called Chris, offering their sympathies, but he quickly started ignoring their calls. They'd known Piers wasn't going to make it from the beginning, and even then they had no true comprehension of what was happening to him. They weren't there at 1am when he'd go into a coughing fit, they didn't have to watch him struggle to stand, brushing off any assistance.  
As his condition worsened, Piers's mood soured. He'd yell in frustration until his throat was raw, and lose his temper at the simplest of questions.   
But Chris prefered the outbursts over what happened at night. Piers would lay just out of reach, mumbling his apologies, sobbing hysterically, and pulling away from every touch. Chris stopped trying to comfort him on the fourth night. He'd stay in the kitchen and smoke until Piers finally drifted into a fitful sleep.   
It was always too quiet at night. As much as the screaming and sobbing hurt him, Chris would've gladly taken them over the still and silence of the nights. He'd pace, watch crime show reruns, do countless menial tasks to avoid going to bed.  
He reluctantly crawled into bed a little after eleven, fully clothed. Piers had kicked off all the blankets, but was clutching Chris's pillow tightly.   
Chris mechanically pulled the blanket back over Piers's body, preparing to go to sleep without his pillow when Piers stirred.  
"Chris," he murmured, sliding the borrowed pillow away from his face.  
"Yeah?" Chris replied, unable to look away from Piers's hooded, unseeing eyes.  
"I'm sorry. I don't want you to remember me like this," he pushed the pillow down toward their feet. "Can I have a hug?" he smiled sheepishly, but Chris was cautious as he edged closer. They'd had moments like these before, but they were always shortlived and forced.  
He draped a a heavy arm over Piers's form, resting his chin on the top of his head. Piers pressed his forehead against the older man's collarbone, wrinkling his nose at the stench of cigarettes, a smell that he'd once found comforting.  
"Smoking's bad for you," he scolded.  
Chris hummed in response, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion.  
"I'm serious; coughing fits aren't-"  
"I only do it when I'm stressed,"  
"You're always stressed," he sighed. "You're going to get grey hair,"  
"I'm going to get grey hair either way,"  
"I can't wait to see that, I-" Piers caught himself. Chris tensed around him, a headache beginning to form.  
God, why couldn't things just be normal? Why couldn't they just joke around without being reminded of Piers's mortality?  
"What are you going to do afterwards?" Piers asked quietly.  
"I don't know,"  
The marksman sighed solemnly, snuggling closer. "You don't have to hold me anymore if you don't want to,"  
"Get some sleep, Piers," Chris replied, pulling him closer, relaxing into the mattress.  
It was one of the good nights.

· · ·

Piers's frustration had been steeping throughout the day. Chris was home from his quick trip to the corner store, and was now doing his daily chin-ups at a bar perched above the front door, though he'd long ago stopped counting.  
Piers was grateful for all that Chris had done and continued to do for him, but he'd never understand what it was like to be rendered helpless by the aftermath of a virus he'd only injected himself with to save the other man. Preserving the world never crossed his mind; Chris was in danger and he did what was necessary to save him.  
"I remember when you found me," Piers began. He heard Chris drop down and begin his retreat into the kitchen. "I wasn't conscious for the majority of the month, but once I saw the ship, I thought that I was going to die. That I'd lasted an entire month just to die at the hands of a stranger." he stood up, making sure to dodge the coffee table. "And now look at me; I've been reduced to...nothing."  
"I could've done more," Chris retorted. "If you'd been the one to fucking tell me you were dying,"  
"I told you my second day here," Piers said, grasping at an unidentified piece of furniture to steady himself.  
"Kennedy told me your second day here!" Chris spat. "How long did you know, Piers?"  
"Since the beginning," Piers mumbled, shrinking back.  
"Since the beginning," he repeated. "And you don't think someone in my place could have any influence? You could've been saved, Piers, if you'd just told the truth."  
"This isn't my fault," the marksman growled. "How quickly you forget that I'm going to die all because of you. How many men have died for you now?" he regretted it the moment he said it. In the field, he'd needed to open old wounds to get Chris to remember where he was, to focus. Now, he was simply lashing out where he knew it would hurt.  
And it hurt. Chris no longer had an angry reply, he simply went quiet, standing completely still.  
"Chris," Piers said, feeling his way toward the kitchen, stopping once he felt the familiar tile underfoot. "I'm so sorry," he reached out, but felt nothing. He stepped forward, his shin bumping against what he assumed was a shoulder. "Captain..." he crouched down, taking a seat next to the older man on the cold floor. "Take my hand, I don't know what I'm grabbing here,"  
Chris slowly reached out to take Piers's hand, bringing it to his lips and gently kissing the scar tissue.  
"It should've been me," Chris mumbled. "You had so much to live for." It was the first time he'd used the past tense in front of Piers.  
The younger man placed his chin onto Chris's knee. "You're worth dying for," he let the sentence hang.  
Silence filled the apartment once more. Piers was already tired enough, and Chris had no more words.

· · ·

Chris was awakened by Piers's coughing, the nearby digital clock displaying that it was 3:30. Piers was coughing uncontrollably, unable to catch his breath.   
"Captain," he gasped, nails digging into the older man's arm.  
Chris dialed 911 in a panicked daze, letting out a string of curses and demanding that the ambulance hurry.  
"It's okay," Chris said, pulling Piers's shaking body into his lap, rubbing circles into his back. "You're gonna be alright,"  
Tears had formed at the edges of his eyes as he desperately tried to stifle his coughing, to breathe in air that just wasn't there.  
"Hear that?" Chris added as a siren blared in the distance. "The ambulance is on the way. They're gonna fix you up,"

· · ·

On the ambulance they managed to stop Piers's coughing, and once at the hospital gave him a small amount of generic painkillers.  
"He'll have another coughing spell," a doctor told Chris in a hushed tone. "We won't be able to stop it this time. If he has any family, they need to come...I'm sorry."  
Chris went back to Piers's side, gently grasping his cold hand.  
"Hey," Piers said drowsily. "What'd they say?"  
Chris inhaled deeply. "They're gonna fix you right up, Piers. You'll get to come home tomorrow,"   
"That's good," Piers replied, smiling weakly. "I miss Finn,"  
"I do too."  
They sat in a morbid silence, Chris rehearsing every word as he waited for the inevitable cough that would kill Piers.  
"I-" Piers didn't finish, beginning to cough again. He knitted his brows together in confusion.  
"The doctor's coming, just hold on a little longer," Chris choked out.  
The minutes crept by, each cough worsening, Piers began to panic, despite the drugs in his system.  
"C-Captain," he rasped, his breathing now shallow, face pale.  
He looked away from Piers, tightening his grip. Why couldn't he think of something better to say to him? Something comforting, something fitting for the last words that a soldier would ever hear.  
"Chris," he corrected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating much too frequently, but I've written most of these in groups, and I always get a bit excited to update.  
> Next chapter is the last one.
> 
> my instagram: @sedetio


	8. Aftermath

Chris glanced up at his reflection in the rearview mirror, making sure that any remnants of his facial hair was gone, noting the small strand of greying hair, which was strategically tucked behind his ear.  
"Here we go," he mumbled to himself, stepping out of his vehicle and quietly shutting the door behind him.  
He was only able to walk a few feet in comfortable silence before he was ambushed by Sherry, who gave him a concise hug. She smelled of cucumber melon lotion, a scent Chris would now forever associate with funerals.  
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.  
"Thank you," he replied curtly. What was she sorry about? Nobody here knew Piers like he had; they only knew of him.  
They approached the small crowd around the coffin. Closed casket, of course. They'd all prefer to remember Piers as he was before the virus took his body.  
"Are those..." he trailed off, eyeing an older couple standing away from the others, a blank look in their eyes that only rivaled Chris's.  
"His parents," Sherry finished, placing a hand on his forearm. "They want to speak to you,"  
Chris attempted to protest, but Sherry was persistent, practically dragging him to Mr. and Mrs. Nivans.  
He found himself unable to maintain eye contact with Mr. Nivans. Piers had been nearly identical to his father.  
"Captain Redfield," Mrs. Nivans began, smiling warmly up at him. "Piers spoke so highly of you."  
"Thank you, ma'am. Piers was an equally excellent man,"  
"He was infected under your command," Mr. Nivans interjected, his wife taking his hand and telling him to hush.  
"Captain Redfield, Piers never spoke to us much about his personal life, tell me, was there a girl in the picture? I...I have a few things I'd like to tell her."  
Chris clenched his jaw, having noticed how the elder Nivans had been suspiciously eyeing him from the moment he arrived.  
Once a soldier, always a soldier.  
"No, ma'am, I'm afraid there was no girl."  
"Alright," she answered, lightly pulling her husband's arm. "Let's leave Captain Redfield alone for a moment,"  
Mr. Nivans looked at him like he planned to say something, but remained silent and followed his wife.  
"I'm sorry, I thought they knew," Sherry began.  
"It's alright." Chris said, unable to look in one direction for long. "It was only a few months."  
"You didn't see the way he looked at you, back in Edonia."  
Chris looked down at Sherry, who gave him a sad smile. "He was an open book."  
"I guess he was," Chris replied, meeting Mr. Nivans's eye from across the cemetery. The elder gave him a curt nod, his lips forming a straight line.  
"He looked just like his father," Sherry murmured. "It's quite amazing,"  
Chris said nothing, scratching absentmindedly at the back of his neck.

· · ·

After climbing back into his car, Chris noticed something reflecting the afternoon sun in his backseat. He reached back to investigate, retrieving the mug he'd bought for Piers.  
That seemed like it'd been an eternity ago, despite having only been a matter of months.  
He gripped the mug until his knuckles turned white, clambering back out of his car and making his way toward Piers's headstone.  
He placed the mug between various flowers, despite how the camouflage clashed with the bright reds and yellows.  
"He would've liked it,"  
He turned to see Mr. Nivans standing behind him, hands tucked into his pockets. Chris was beginning to suspect that this man was unable to do anything but make the same disinterested frown.  
"I knew there was something going on, when he called his mother to tell her he wasn't coming home. Mighty strange for two men to be living together like that-"  
"With all due respect, sir, I don't need to hear your homophobic bullshit right now," Chris stood, finally able to meet the elder's eyes. He didn't remind him of Piers anymore; Piers always had a much softer tone, and didn't look like he'd frowned his way through life.  
"I buried my son today," Mr. Nivans said. "There is no hatred in my heart for whatever you and he did. But remember this, soldier: you may have been there in his final moments, but you didn't know him."  
Chris began to protest, but Mr. Nivans continued.  
"We always knew he was queer. Nothing wrong with that. But my wife wanted grandchildren. If Piers hadn't been...infatuated with you, he could've come home to us, safe, uninfected. Maybe found himself someone, had some kids, settled down,"  
"If you're here to blame me, I assure you I am fully aware that I am the reason Piers died-"  
"No," Mr. Nivans interrupted. "That's not what I'm saying here. I just wanted to talk some sense into you. You gotta stop blaming yourself, pushing everyone away. Piers is gone, and no amount of self-loathing is gonna bring him back." he gazed at him over his rectangular glasses. "Did you love my son?"  
"Yessir, I did," Chris confirmed, his throat suddenly dry.  
Mr. Nivan's posture relaxed slightly. "Then he didn't die in vain," he clasped Chris's shoulder. "Keep fighting. Stop this godforsaken virus from getting out and destroying anyone else. Don't make another father have to attend his son's funeral." he dropped his hand, and turned to leave.  
"Sir?" Chris said. The ex-soldier turned slightly. "Thank you."  
Mr. Nivans gave him a small smile.

· · ·

At first, Chris had felt strange whenever he spoke to Finn, but now it was quite routine.  
"You better not be on that counter," he called as he toed off his shoes. He heard a familiar thump, and smiled as Finn ran to greet him. He was getting so big.  
Finn danced around his feet as he pulled off his blazer, and nearly choked himself trying to remove his tie. He let out a sigh as he dropped down onto his bed, rubbing at his temple.  
Finn snuggled into the empty side of the bed, kneading at the sheets.  
"I miss him too," he said, absentmindedly picking at what had been Piers's pillow. The week of his death, Chris couldn't even look at anything on what had been Piers's side of the bed. Now it simply remained made while Chris slept. The clothing Piers had worn when they adopted Finn was hung up in his closet, and on occasion he'd lightly touch the flannel's sleeve and chuckle at the memories of that day.  
His phone chimed, showing a text from Leon.  
'Drinks?', it read. Chris's fingers hovered over the keyboard. He'd gotten this same text each night since Piers's death, and he always declined. He remembered Mr. Nivans's words from earlier that day.  
'See you at 8' he replied, setting his phone back onto the end table.  
He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this fic! It's the first one I've actually finished, and haven't deleted. While this didn't have the most happy ending, I am actually working on a nivanfield AU (this pairing, as I said before, is my heart and soul), filled to the brim with smut, sass, and a much happier conclusion.  
> I felt like it was necessary for Piers to leave us, partly because of Chris's terrible luck, and there's very few nivanfield fics with sad endings. (that I've seen, anyway)  
> A big thanks to Max, who continues to listen to me ramble on about Chris Redfield, despite not being in the RE fandom.  
> And a huge, cheesy, thanks to you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! I've always wanted to be a writer, but always have so much anxiety about anyone reading what I write, and this has definitely helped.  
> Alright, I'm done being sappy.
> 
> my instagram: @sedetio

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for how short this is, and if there's any typos; I do everything with my phone.
> 
> My instagram: @glwcloud


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